Oy vey.
And suppose, since you are in this parking lot jam on this wrong highway going in the wrong direction, you make an ill advised, poorly calculated attempt to exit said highway. During this poor attempt to exit, you manage to clip the rear end of a van with a license plate that identifies the driver as handicapped.
Suppose also the handicapped person is only the passenger; the grandmother of the driver, a mother of 2 year old twins, not so patiently sitting in the back seat.
As long as you are supposing, suppose said mother of 2 year old twins has been carrying a baby brother in her belly for said twins for over 8 months.
Suppose you are less than 5 and a half feet tall, but feel like you are less than 2 feet tall, when, after telling pregnant driver that you are headed to Florida, she tells you she is taking her beloved Grandma to her new home; the nursing variety.
Oy vey. Could it get any worse?
How about if, when questioned by a police officer, you are sweating profusely, not because of guilt, but because you are barely winning a battle agains the dreaded "Big D," - diarrhea.
Could it get any worse? I suppose. I mean, there were no fatalities.
Wait! I hope I haven't led you to believe any of this happened to me!
Don't be ridiculous; I lead a charmed life. We have arrived in Florida; the endless summer continues. Sure, there were some complications during our trip; extremely slow service at McDonald's for breakfast. And, it turns out there aren't many places to eat dinner on a Wednesday night in Yamasee, South Carolina. Still, we found a swell Chinese woman who makes a tasty Shrimp with lobster sauce.
All is well. I do lead a charmed life, but don't think I've made a deal with the devil. I point to my agonizing devotion to the San Francisco Giants. Surely any deal made with Lucifer would have included at least one championship in the last 55 years.
